


Ocean View

by StumbleineSuperqueen



Series: Badlands, etc. [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal POV, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Sex and death, flowery and ridiculous, set during TWOTL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StumbleineSuperqueen/pseuds/StumbleineSuperqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was nothing outside this room. A small voice was whispering urgently about caution and control and self-preservation but Hannibal dismissed it with a tiny shake of his head. This was something he'd never have again, and he'd never been foolish enough to value his life over the things that made it worth living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ocean View

Hannibal Lecter was a man of earthly pleasures - good taste, as he thought of it. Anything worth experiencing was worth experiencing in its highest, most refined form. Fine wine, gourmet food, tailored suits, literature in its original languages. And, occasionally, a lover. Sex was his rarest pleasure. Intimacy was inconvenient, messy. He chose his partners for the act with utmost care, yet there was always the possibility they would act unpredictably. Unacceptable, and annoying.

Harboring classical leanings, he selected these chosen few by aesthetic, wit, ability, not physical configuration. His lovers had been men, women, beautiful creatures in between. He was experienced. He was capable. In this, as in everything else, Hannibal did not question that he was among the best. It went without saying.

Never had sex been anything but a physical experience. Never had he loved, and so never had he made love. His couplings were necessarily sweet but soulless. For partners who required feeling to be fulfilled, he provided the appropriate responses, looks, caresses. He felt that he was quite generous in this regard.

His desires had always been abstract, for the act, not the person. Occasionally, for the sublime pleasure of conquest, of touching the untouchable and leaving a mark. Then...Will came. Will happened. To his dismay Will affected him in ways he had only observed in others, in his practice. His decisions became foggy. He could no longer see the straight lines, A to B to C, between his goals. Playing the harpsichord in the evening, he sometimes found himself thinking of dark tousled curls, a permanently concerned brow above a pair of grey eyes, like the sea beyond the cliffs of one of his many homes. It was inexplicable. He began to think he must do something in order to remedy it. He tried the lowest risk route first.

In his memory palace he visited Will, the Will built of all his experiences with the real Will. He seduced him and had his way, in the memory palace where things were as good as real if not better, filling in the gaps in his knowledge with bits and pieces of previous fucks. When he opened his eyes, panting a little, his cock softening in his hand, he immediately mentally probed at the place where this feeling for Will lived, to see if it was gone. No. He still wanted him. More than ever. Nonsensical. Ridiculous. Hannibal felt a rare touch of irritation.

There was no help for it - every day the Will-feeling grew. Through the months it did not wane or even slow, and Hannibal was finding himself quite undone by this mental tumor. His plans, once so lovely and pure, became tainted with subplots designed to bring Will further under his control.

Well, he decided eventually, if he was in love, if that was what it had come to, he would master this too. But it would be years, long years of misjudgments and near misses and changes of plans, and finally three endless years of solitude, before Will was his.

But in the end...he was.

The tires of the police car crunched softly over the gravel as Hannibal navigated the long driveway up to the house on the cliff. Will sat beside him, silent, gazing out through the blood-spattered shards of glass still lining the window at the seagulls circling high above the waves. The sun was sinking. They had not spoken during the drive.

Hannibal took a key from under a planter near the back door and let them in. The house was modest, half solitary hideout, half safe-house. This particular one was seldom used; Hannibal had not had need of it for at least a year now, but it was his habit to stop by his properties every few month to keep them ready and comfortable, should he want a time away to himself or need to make a getaway such as this one…although none of the previous ones had really been like this, he thought. The beds were made, no drab dust cloths covered the furniture, and the wine rack was well-stocked. A tidy stack of wood sat by the fireplace in the den. Neither of them turned on the lights as they entered. Wordlessly Hannibal walked ahead of Will into the master bedroom and sat on the bed to take off his shoes, placing them neatly together on the floor.

Will stood in the doorway. Hannibal met his eyes.

"We're sitting ducks here,” Will said after a moment. "The main room is all windows."

"An ocean view would hardly be worth the price otherwise," Hannibal said lightly.

Will said nothing. He crossed the room, sat down next to Hannibal and began unlacing his boots. After he was done, he turned to Hannibal to find the other man's maroon eyes already trained on him, face inches from his own.

"Will," Hannibal said, and stopped. Careful. He was not nervous, but he would not endanger the outcome he had waited so long for. In his chest his heart was straining against his well-trained mental control, wanting to gallop, to pound. He took a breath and stilled it. A misstep now would rob his escape of its sweetness.

Will was looking back at him as if he'd never really seen him before, expression poised halfway between guardedness and something that might be hope. Slowly Hannibal raised a hand and brought it to Will's cheek. A moment of understanding passed between them and they both leaned in, hesitantly, until their lips brushed. Will drew a breath and then they were kissing. To Hannibal it felt as if a dam in his chest had burst, releasing a flood of adrenaline. His heartbeat slipped his mental grip and began to race - his whole body felt electric, a sensation he could only compare to the moment of the kill. But never had that cherished moment overtaken him like this, robbed him of his composure so completely.

"He knows where we are,” Will said haltingly, drawing back only far enough to break contact. "I..."

"He is nothing," Hannibal murmured, and believed it. There was nothing outside this room. A small voice was whispering urgently about caution and control and self-preservation but he dismissed it with a tiny shake of his head. This was something he'd never have again, and he'd never been foolish enough to value his life over the things that made it worth living. Instead he kissed Will again, fiercely now instead of hesitantly, and again, and again, and pulled him in against his body, and Will did not protest, he was wrapping his arms around Hannibal's shoulders and running fingers through his hair and kissing back, with less and less inhibition. They were lost to the world. They were not themselves. There was no place for fear or the future in this long-awaited moment.

As the fever passed briefly, the hunger they had both felt for so long temporarily sated, they broke apart long enough to catch their breath. Will searched Hannibal's face and must have found there what he was looking for, because he began to unbutton his shirt, sending another aching jolt of electricity up Hannibal's spine. He was shocked to hear himself release a low sound somewhere between a whine and a moan at the sight of more of Will's skin. He needed him. Now.

Hannibal ripped off the hideous, hated hospital jumpsuit, getting rid of everything separating him from Will. Soon they were sprawled awkwardly side by side on the immaculately made bed, skin against skin, kissing deeply as if nothing else existed. Hannibal was reveling in something unique - something truly new. Never in his life full of fine things, exquisite sensual experiences, had he felt this way in another person's embrace. He tried to savor it, make it go slowly. He ran his hands down Will's bare flesh, over his side, trying to memorize by touch every landmark, the jut of his hipbones, the warmth radiating from him...his thighs, the dip between his hip and his ribcage, the curve of his ass. Dimly he realized Will's hands were making the same journey across his body. Will was stroking his chest, lower, lower...

"Can I," Will panted in his ear, voice rough and low. "I mean—"

Hannibal looked into his face. Will was flushed red high on his cheekbones, beneath the stubble, and coated in a sheen of sweat. His expression was confused and almost drowsy, like a sleepwalker coming to in an unfamiliar place, or as if he had slid back into the depths of encephalitis-induced delirium. To Hannibal he was somehow bizarrely reminiscent of a painted Renaissance cherub. He looked almost innocent. Maybe it was clear to them both what should, needed to happen next, but neither man knew how to take the first step. Perhaps they had gotten this far in fantasy - it was clear now to Hannibal that Will knew the same obsession he did - but the act itself was another thing. For the first time Hannibal wondered if Will had ever touched another man before. He became aware of how painfully hard he was, his cock pressed into Will's stomach, leaking all over him.

He took Will's hand. "May I?" he asked, feeling absurd. Will nodded.

Hannibal wrapped Will's hand around his cock, his own on top, and squeezed, just for a moment. He exhaled sharply and Will shifted against him, sighing. With a slow, steady pace he began stroking his cock with Will's hand. It was so good on his aching cock that he was nearly seeing stars. Hannibal shoved his face into the crook of Will's neck, breathing in his familiar scent, moaning, all dignity forgotten. Will moved closer until they were jerking their cocks together in a jumble of sticky hands, rubbing against each other desperately. After a moment Hannibal realized he couldn't let this go on too long. There was so much more and he was already so close to the edge. Taste - he had to taste him. Taste every part - his mouth was so sweet - he needed to taste him everywhere.

Abruptly Hannibal leaned up on his forearm and pressed a breathless and disarrayed Will on his back into the mattress. He moved down and wrapped his lips around the head of Will's cock, taking his own in his free hand. Will shuddered, but did not object, and he let his head drop back on the mattress as Hannibal moved down his length, and agonizingly back up, licking, savoring, grazing his teeth along the tender skin. The taste of Will was as satisfying as he'd always dreamed, every night in the hospital, every night since they'd met. Hannibal couldn't get enough.

"Jesus _fuck Hannibal_ ," Will cried out, his voice breaking slightly. He arched his hips involuntarily, trying to get deeper into Hannibal's mouth. Hannibal opened his throat in response, taking Will all the way inside him. Will whimpered. "Hannibal... _Hannibal..._ "

The sound of his name on Will's beautiful, raw lips nearly undid him. Will was breathing in harsh bursts, grinding against his face, gripping fistfuls of his hair. Calling his name, over and over. For a while Hannibal lost himself in his work as Will moaned and thrust helplessly, occasionally struggling to crunch upwards enough to take in the beautiful sight of Hannibal's mouth around him. When Hannibal felt his gaze and stopped to look up, the slack look of amazement on Will's face was so amusing that Hannibal had to smile. Will gave a weak chuckle.

"I believe this new treatment is rapidly improving my mental state, Dr. Lecter," he whispered hoarsely, attempting a dry joke in the face of his embarrassment. Hannibal bowed his head slightly, smiling half to himself.

He knew Will was no more a fan of losing control than he was, and they were both far past their comfort zones. Time seemed to have stopped - the last red rays of sunset gave the scene in this strange dim bedroom a sense of unreality. In his mind palace he had never seen it this way, but it was right. They were meant to be one. They had moved through life like ghosts, invisible, until they saw one another. They were the same. The same. They belonged to each other, Hannibal thought, suddenly aggressive. He drew the back of his hand across his mouth and moved back up on to the bed, murmuring against Will's ear, his hot breath tickling.

"You're mine, mine," he said in a low voice, firm, authoritative, with only a slight waver to betray his intense emotion and arousal. "Do you understand, Will?" He took a fistful of curls and pulled back just hard enough to expose Will's neck, to see the rapid pulse beating there. Will's blood, beating for him now. All his. Will licked his dry lips.

"Yours," he found himself agreeing, breathless. It was undeniable. In some way that they both sensed, they had just exchanged vows. Until death do us part.

Hannibal kissed him, and kissed the pulse in his neck. He released Will's hair and stuck the first two fingers of the six on his left hand into his mouth. Will deserved better, but this would have to do.

Will drew a breath through his teeth with a hiss as Hannibal's first finger entered him, working him open, but he merely spread his legs wider and closed his eyes tight, hand stroking his throbbing cock. Hannibal continued, knowing he was adding fingers too quickly, but feeling like he might burst if he could not get inside Will as fast as possible. He needed it more than he'd ever needed anything. Alternately he thrust with his fingers and dipped his head between Will’s thighs to taste him there too, shoving his tongue inside to hear Will groan with pleasure. Finally he could stand it no longer - he grasped the back of Will's thighs and pulled them up, lining himself up. He tried to relax, luxuriate in the moment, rubbing the head of his cock around the hole. Will gasped, seeming to return to his senses. For a moment his mouth opened and closed.

"Please—I need it, please," he spat finally, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. He looked horrified by the words leaving his mouth. "Please, please, doctor, don't stop now."

"Yes," Hannibal hissed, gritting his teeth as he sank the first two inches of himself into Will, trying not to charge forward, trying so very desperately not to cum. Will was so tight, it was so hot inside him, so good...he exhaled a long breath as he pulled back and on the return sank inside him even further. "Christ," he choked out, feeling his eyes roll upward involuntarily. The unique, extraordinary mental control Hannibal had always held over his physical functions was being pushed to its limits. He had never felt anything like this level of pleasure in his life, or seen anything so incredible. Will's cock jutting before him red and swollen, a dribbling mess of precum - his muscles standing out beneath the scars crossing his tan skin - his body twisting involuntarily beneath him with each slow stroke, in unbearable pain and pleasure of Hannibal’s own making - his face, his sweet angelic face, his eyelids fluttering, his lips bitten red - each little strangled sound formed by his gorgeous mouth. He needed to be closer. He wanted to experience every sensation with him, as one.

He dropped forward to his forearms, pulling Will's thighs parallel to his body, kissing and biting Will's chest hungrily as he rammed into him as hard as he could, all regard for holding back or going easy forgotten in the face of his rising orgasm. There was nothing for Will to do but wrap his arms tightly around Hannibal's neck, tears in his eyes, sinking his teeth into Hannibal’s shoulder when the pain rose in intensity until Hannibal felt him break the skin. Harder, harder, harder, harder—“ _harder!_ ” Will moaned despite himself. Hannibal was panting like a wild animal in his ear. "I need you, I need you to do it, oh, _Hannibal, yes, yes..._ "

"Ha—" It was so intense that Hannibal nearly collapsed right away, but he couldn't possibly stop fucking Will until he was physically unable, not for anything. It was so, so good, it was perfect, it was euphoria, and he knew his nails were cutting deeply into the flesh of Will's shoulders but he was entirely overtaken. " _Yes,_ " he groaned, and his muscles finally gave out, and Will was clutching him to his body as if he’d never let go, sighing again and again, “yes, Hannibal, yes, yes…”

They lay there silently for a while, Hannibal with his cheek resting on the burning sweat-soaked skin of Will’s chest, Will still murmuring indistinctly under his breath, stroking Hannibal’s hair. Hannibal felt that he could sleep for a century, and he wanted to do it just like this, right here, with Will's heart beating in his ear. Forever. He knew now that forever was possible, would be a reality with Will in a way he had never dared to let himself entertain. However, before more than a subjectively-eternal minute had passed, he became aware that he could still feel Will’s erection trapped beneath him, pressing uncomfortably into his stomach. That wouldn’t do. There was one thing left to take care of before he could rest.

As soon as he was able to gather himself, Hannibal rolled to his side and without a word of warning sucked Will’s cock down fast and hard, mercilessly, until his beloved came down his throat, howling and clawing his back in ecstasy. The sound he made was the loveliest Hannibal had ever heard.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my first fic in nearly a decade! I am SO nervous argh. Naturally it's just straight-up porn. If you're wondering about the red eyes/six fingers thing I just really like those aspects of Harris's Hannibal, but this is obviously very firmly Fullerverse. I am working on something a LITTLE less generic-first-time-Hannigram-fucking at the moment (it has chapters!) so hopefully I can get that into shape soon! Follow me on Tumblr @ stumbleine-superqueen.tumblr.com.


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